


everything that shine

by 1001cranes



Series: Tumblr Fics [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Sky High (2005), Teen Wolf (TV), The Secret Garden - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fight Sex, Incest, Kid Fic, Kittens, M/M, Multi, Other, Road Trips, Sibling Incest, Space Pirates, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Loop, Treasure Hunting, Xeno, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 8,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001cranes/pseuds/1001cranes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of tumblr fics. Updated with:</p><p>Scott/Stiles, vet!Scott, Stiles has a kitten<br/>Dickon/Mary/Colin, Drift Compatible<br/>Derek/Cora, the westermark effect ain’t got none on them<br/>Peter/Stiles, arranged marriage</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter/Stiles, Happy Endings fake fight

**Author's Note:**

> i. Peter/Stiles, Happy Endings fake fight  
> ii. Peter/Stiles, Mob AU  
> iii. Boyd/Stiles, accidental baby acquisition  
> iv. Scott/Stiles, accidental baby acquisition  
> v. Warren/Will/Layla, accidental baby acquisition  
> vi. Derek/Stiles, time loop  
> vii. Peter/Isaac/Stiles, Black Swan AU  
> viii. Derek/Stiles/Laurent, Super Mario AU  
> ix. Derek/Stiles, Treasure Hunter/Archaeologist AU  
> x. Derek/Stiles, Shakespeare AU  
> xi. Cora/Stiles, Space Pirate AU  
> xii. Derek/Stiles, 13 Going on 30 AU  
> xiii. Mako/Raleigh, road trip  
> xiv. Scott/Stiles, vet!Scott, Stiles has a kitten  
> xv. Mary/Colin/Dickon, Drift Compatible  
> xvi. Derek/Cora, the westermark effect ain’t got none on them  
> xvii. Peter/Stiles, arranged marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tHANKS TO THAT [HAPPY ENDINGS VIDEO](http://the1001cranes.tumblr.com/post/71802081557/rufflebutts-whatever-happened-to-hard-copy) I AM NOW IMAGINING PETER AND STILES FAKING HOW PISSED OFF THEY ARE AT EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY'RE GOING TO BONE SO HARD LATER. - RRROWR

When Stiles was in college it seemed like all they did was fight. About being away; about when Stiles was coming home; about how often he kept changing his major; about paying for school - Peter wanted to take care of everything, and Stiles kept continually putting his foot down - about the summer internships he couldn’t  _technically_  afford, not without living on ramen, which he did solely out of spite; about the Sheriff’s health and how to goad him into taking care of it; random spats of jealousy and worry and insomnia and crankiness and a billion other negative emotions, until it seemed like Peter and Stiles were in a fight ever other week. Which was not, Stiles can admit, exactly untrue. But their relative volatility  _never_  looked good when held up against Allison and Scott’s sickening, placid cuteness, or Erica and Boyd’s near mind meld, or Isaac and Derek’s hilariously tragic single lives. They’d gotten a reputation for being  _that couple_. And what no one seemed to have realized is that most of their original problems had melted away. Stiles had graduated college only a semester late, with a double major in economics and folklore, thank you very much, and had a job that paid for half the bills in the nice-but-not-too-nice apartment he rented with Peter. Peter spent too much any other chance he got, but Stiles had learned to pick his battles.

"What do you think about Isaac’s new girlfriend?" Stiles yelled. "She seems nice!”

 _“_ You don’t think he could do better?” Peter asked, and stomped his foot on the ground. Stiles rolled his eyes in response. “She was quiet. And violent.”

"He likes violent!"

"He needs therapy!"

"He  _so_ does, but you try suggesting it!”

"Why would he want to go, when you never stop complaining about Dr. Deaton any chance you get?"

Stiles widened his eyes and leaned forward to whisper, “Because that man  _hates_   _us_.”

Peter flung a hand out to point at the restaurant where they’d left their smug, smug, annoying friends, who were likely watching from inside the window. “It was  _your_  best friend’s Christmas gift. Who gives couples therapy sessions as a gift?”

"Scott!" Stiles yells. "No one but Scott! The adorable and caring little dipshit!"

Peter threw his head back, crossed his arms, and sighed deeply. “Are we done now? Are they still watching?”

Stiles threw his arms out, wide. “Duh! They’d watch all night! So fuck ‘em! It’s time for fake fight makeup sex!”

"I’ll hail a cab, you take the car." Peter balled up his half undone tie and threw it at Stiles, who caught it, startled. "And the last one home  _gets tied up_.”


	2. Sheriff Stilinski, Peter/Stiles, Mob AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking some sort of mobster AU? Where Peter is a crime lord and Stiles is at the wrong place at the wrong time and sees one of Peter's people taking care of Kate Argent but he manages to get away. It's only then he finds out that Mr.Hale would consider the sheriff's son knowing his business a great inconvenience. This then leads to Stiles getting an I'm being hunted by a madman boner OR! Peter bargains the Sheriff's life for Stiles' silence (plus his D). - nonny

John knows he made a deal with the devil when he got into business with the Hales, but he also knows some devils are better than others. 

The Hales are glad handers and backroom dealers, rich and political, a finger in every pie, a favor for a favor, or protection, or benevolence, the oil on the squeaky wheels they’ll never let anyone replace. The Argents are bigots and bullies, headed by a madman, keen to rule the streets of this town even if they have to paint them with blood. The Hales might hamstring the law, occasionally - John knows exactly whose pocket he’s in - but the Argents think the laws don’t apply at all. 

There are no servants in heaven, here.

| |

Whenever John is summoned to a meet, he never knows which of the Hales will be waiting for him: the enigmatic Talia, matriarch and leader; her oldest son Derek, taciturn, frequently bruised and battered; her daughters Laura, bright and almost startlingly pleasant, or Cora, brusque and unimpressed; even the occasional ‘business associate’ or bodyguard.

Today it’s Peter Hale. 

Peter is simultaneously the least and most dangerous of the Hales. He’s the most well-known, a minor politician and public figure, a society hound. He keeps his hands cleaner than most, and his mask a little firmer. He could be here to talk about next year’s county elections or to ask John to make sure a case gets buried. 

Today it’s neither.

"You heard about last night’s tragedy, I suppose? Terrible," Peter says, a small cup of espresso steaming just at his elbow. "Just terrible."

John nods, because Kate Argent’s overdose has been cycling through the news all morning. Kate was known for playing fast and loose in just about anyway she could, and while it seems likely enough to have come to something like this, it’s suddenly even more likely to have been an ”overdose.” 

"We’re looking for someone," Peter says, seemingly changing tacks as he slides a photograph across the table. "And with your access to social services, well. We just thought you could help.

When Peter flips the photo over John’s heart almost stops. 

"You know him," Peter observes, smiling. Peter never misses a trick. "Well, that’s makes it easier."

"He won’t talk," John says immediately. "Whatever he saw. He’s a smart kid, he knows better." After losing his mother in an ‘accident,’ Stiles knows better than most. And wasn’t Stiles supposed to be with Scott last night? Goddamn it, he probably  _was_  with Scott; hopefully Scott didn’t see anything.

Peter’s smile disappears as suddenly as it had appeared. “Be that as it may, I think a little face to face time is needed in cases like these.”

"He’s my  _son_ ,” John says, pleading. “If you trust me —”

"John!" Peter says, and slaps him on the shoulder. "John, of course we trust you." He’s almost jovial again. "But I promised Talia. You know how she feels about broken promises," and John stiffens his spine so he doesn’t shudder.

"All right," he says, because he’s already told them who Stiles is, hasn’t he? "He’s at school now, but —"

"Later then," Peter says. "We’ll see the both of you later."

| | 

[and later, later, oh so much later]

Stiles’s thighs are muscled from years of lacrosse, lean and long like the rest of his body, the slim shape he inherited from his mother’s side over his father’s solid, strong build; they’re spread open now, rubbed red from Peter’s five o’clock shadow, tender insides bitten all up, once smooth skin pitted with indents from Peter’s teeth, purpling where there will be little bruises later.

"Good boy," Peter says, while Stiles muffles another small sob. Peter likes Stiles quiet, quiet until he can’t be quiet any longer, good until they’re going to be very, very bad. "My very good boy."


	3. Boyd/Stiles, accidental baby acquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> accidental baby acquisition and umm.... Stiles/Scott or Stiles/Boyd? - the-invisible-girl

"This is your fault," Boyd said.

"Excuse you," Stiles said. "I am offended. And entirely innocent." 

"Who finds a  _baby.”_

When Stiles looked up from where he’d been googling for mythology around finding babies, or gift babies, or maybe magic babies, Boyd was still staring at him. ”… sorry, I assumed that part was somewhat rhetorical.”

Cue glare  _intensifying_. 

Stiles held out his arms and sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Weird shit follows me. I’ll take this. Gimme the baby.”

Boyd raised an eyebrow. Like all of a sudden he was  _doubting_  Stiles’s baby-holding prowess.

"Gimme my magic baby, Boyd!"

"No!"

"Boyd. Are you  _stealing my baby_?”

"He’s sleeping!"

“ _Liar_.”


	4. Scott/Stiles, accidental baby acquision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles (romantic or platonic) ACCIDENTAL BABY ACQUISITION - imakegoodlifechoices

They’re in the middle of watching  _Pacific Rim_  when Scott’s head snaps up. He tilts his whole body a little to the left, eyes widening. It’s one of the most canine things Stiles gets to see him do and it makes him giggle a little every time it happens.

"Something in the woods," Scott says, and god  _damn_  it, but there’s always something in the woods around here, isn’t there?

"Emergency texts first!" Stiles blurts out, because at least they’ve gotten  _smarter_  about the creepy noises in the woods, and he thumbs over Lydia’s name. 

 _checking out sound in the woods near Scott’s house._ If he doesn’t get back to her in ten, she knows to call in the cavalry. 

"Set?" Scott asks, and Stiles nods. 

They don’t even get far before Stiles hears it too.

"Is that…?" he asks, but Scott has already darted ahead. " _Rude_.” Stiles hates playing catch-up.

"It’s —"

"That’s a baby, dude," Stiles says, because words seem to have failed Scott at this point. "Okay. Uhm. I’ll update Lydia and Isaac, then call my dad, and your mom, and Derek."

"Derek?"

"Lots of monsters like babies," Stiles says idly, because facts have a way of slipping out of his mouth before he thinks through their reception. Scott winces.

"Can we call my mom first? Please?"

"Sure, buddy," Stiles says. "Try not to drop it until then."


	5. Warren/Will/Layla, accidental baby acquision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH, OH: WARREN/WILL/LAYLA AND 10, PLEASE? PLEASE? - memekon

"It’s a baby," Warren said, and almost drops it.

Layla, with her maternal instinct that could possibly be seen from space and was in  _no way_ intrinsically tied to her being a woman - Warren felt like sweat might have started to form on the back of his neck just for momentarily even thinking his way around it - swooped in to put her hand just under the baby’s head. 

"Zie’s so tiny!" she whispered. "Aww!"

"Oh man," Will said. Cooed, really, and seeing the West Coast’s premier strongman superhero coo over a baby was not something that actually happened everyday. "What a cutie you are! Yes you are! Yes you are!"

"You use the same voice with dogs." Warren tilted his head back. "Just so you know."

Will ignored him, and bopped the baby on the nose.

"Where did you come from, huh?" Layla said, sing-song. What was even  _happening._ "Someone must have brought you here."

Did she really expect the baby to answer? “It - there was a package on the doorstep! I thought it was a bomb!” Being a superhero had its perks, but the extreme hate mail was not one of them.

Though Warren might have rather dealt with the bomb in this case.


	6. Derek/Stiles, Groundhog's Day

[I had a season 2 WIP of this that was extremely depressing in all ways. I think the working title was something along the lines of Derek Is Emotionally Unstable And Tries To Sleep With Everyone Over and Over.]

BUT now that I think about it, a time loop might be nice for Derek after a while - knowing that it is  _totally okay_ to fuck up, because it all bounces back tomorrow. It gives him a little room to breathe, room to get a little messier, to (ironically) think things out. To know that tomorrow is a boring old Tuesday, no murders, no Hunters, no Alpha Pack. He learns how to validate Isaac, level with Boyd, the deft hand that Erica requires. Scott is mostly still a mystery, honestly, but Derek counts it as a good day when Scott ends up not-pissed at him. The Argents are about avoidance, mainly; the better part of valor. Derek goes to the county inspector’s office and has a nice chat about the permits he’d need to rebuild on the Hale land, since he has slowly become something of an expert. Sometimes he runs into the Sheriff on the way out, and they have a mostly non-threatening talk about how and where and when Derek’s Camaro and Stiles’s Jeep have been seen around town. 

 _did you tell my dad we were dating???_ Stiles will text him, later.

Derek still doesn’t know the proper answer to that.


	7. Peter/Isaac/Stiles, Black Swan AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter/Isaac/Stiles - Black Swan AU. Okay hear me out! Isaac being completely suppressed under the thumb of an overbearing father. Has no sense of freedom (while dancing or sexually). Peter seduces a more provocative performance out of him. Then stiles as Isaac's opposite: not nearly as good technically but knows how to lose himself when he dances. 
> 
> [at first I was like WHAT and then I was like ‘oh I like this’ and now I’m like THIS DESERVES ANOTHER 20K WOW so way to go, anon.]

At the club Peter sits in the VIP section, boozing and wooing some of the ballet’s younger patrons. Wine glass in hand, looking out like a king surveying his country. 

Isaac had tried to stick to the bar earlier, tried to ignore the noise and the crowd and how uncomfortable he always felt in his skin whenever he wasn’t dancing. Erica had dragged him off with her eventually, pulled him out onto the floor and gotten him into the groove of it, the dancing that wasn’t dancing, no rehearsal or reason. She’d passed him off to Stiles after a song - or ten, it was difficult to tell - and Stiles had wrapped himself around Isaac like a limpet. One arm looped around Isaac’s neck, the other around his waist. Pressed more closely together than Isaac has ever been with Stiles. With any man, like this.

"He likes you. You know that, right?" Stiles half-shouts in Isaac’s ear. The music is loud, abrasive, bouncing off too many people on a too crowded dance floor. The only reason Isaac can stand it is because the ceilings are high.

"Peter?" Isaac asks. Of course Peter. Stiles wouldn’t be talking about anyone else. 

"Half the company thinks you’re already fucking," Stiles continues, and Isaac flinches. Can’t help it. It sounds too close to what his father had already shouted at him. That Isaac couldn’t get a job without getting onto his knees, that eighteen years of lessons and training and forgoing everything else for ballet, like his mother, counted for nothing. Isaac can’t pretend he hasn’t heard the gossip - mostly wide-eyed and hushed from the _corps_ , more sneering from the other dancers - but he didn’t expect it from Stiles. 

Stiles must feel the way Isaac flinches. “Come on, now,” he says. “I know better, dude, you know that.” He waggles his eyebrows, and Isaac smiles a little. To be honest, he’s not sure it’s safe. If Stiles is actually being nice, or just planning something. It had sent a shockwave through the company when Peter had named Isaac the new principal dancer instead of Stiles. 

"You’re his favorite," Isaac says. Because everyone knew that too. 

Stiles snorts. “One of them, sure. Used to be Derek.”  Before he broke his toes, before he quit trying to dance, before he bulked up and became a choreographer for some artistic California company. Peter rants about it at least once a week - no one can built to a _grand pas de deux_ like Derek and Kate, no one _,_ what a waste - but Stiles was always the heir to the throne. ”But now its  _your_  time in the sun. Enjoy it,” and Stiles leans in to graze his mouth just across Isaac’s ear. “Enough shop talk, huh?” He palms Isaac’s ass, heavy-handed, obvious and deliberate and the kind of pass that Isaac usually avoids the way only pretty boys can. 

Across the room, Peter’s eyes glitter.


	8. Derek/Stiles/Laurent, Super Mario AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek/Stiles/Laurent, umm IDK Super Mario AU where Derek is Luigi, Stiles is Princess Peach, and Laurent is Mario? Stupid au prompt is stupid i know, i just really want something involving this pairing, forgive me 3

"Why am I the one who always gets kidnapped?" Stiles asks, sullen. It’s precisely the kind of question that is  _not_  a question, so Derek says nothing and keeps working on prying Stiles free. Laurent gives a little half-shrug, but he’s also trying to fight off the last of the lizardy things that always seem to be crawling around the castle.

"Maybe Jackson has a thing for you!" Laurent suggests, and Stiles momentarily stills under Derek’s claws.

"That is the grossest thing you have ever said to me, and that includes the time you wanted to have sex after you got wolfsbane poisoning."

Laurent managed to push the last monster into a pit of lava. The hissing noise was satisfactory; the smell less so. “It could have been romantic!”

"You’re nuts," Stiles says. "Completely bonkers."

"We can probably carry him out of here still tied up," Derek decides. "Just saying."


	9. Derek/Stiles, Treasure Hunter/Archaeologist AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about Stiles as a treasure hunter and Derek the archeologist he somehow manages to coerce into helping him find some ancient lycan treasure (or vice versa). Cue reluctant attraction. - theonceandfuturecatlady

"I thought archeologists wore booty shorts," Stiles says, contemplative, and blatantly looks Derek up and down when he steps out of his tent in the morning.

Two weeks ago Derek would have tried to sear Stiles’s face off with a bloodcurdling look, but at this point Derek’s downgraded to just raising an eyebrow. Sometimes he rolls his eyes heavenward instead, as if to ask ‘why me, Lord? Why was this kid the only semi-professional on the entire East Coast who believed in the legend of the Nemeton?’ When they were younger Laura used to tease that Derek has been born under a bad moon - mostly to get the song stuck in his head - but it didn’t seem like such a joke anymore.

"Are you sure about this?" Derek asks. He’s got way too many pounds of gear slung over his back, way too many bug bites in weird places, and a growing sense of annoyance that will probably reach some kind of critical mass today, if Stiles has anything to do about it. "Beacon Hills?"

"Ab-so-lutely," Stiles sing-songs, and beams. "We’re gonna find it! And then we’re going to be rich." 

"We’re going to be  _right_ ,” Derek mutters back, which is more important as far as his family name is concerned.

"Cheer up, sour face. After this you can afford some Prozac. Or hookers, to help you out of those jeans."


	10. Derek/Stiles, Shakespeare AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sterek, Shakespeare AU where Stiles has to dress up as a girl because thats what they used in the olden days, crossdressers for actresses that's what. STILES IN A BODICE. - dontevenlikecoconut

[shades of Peter perving on Scott. because lbr he would]

| |

"The new boy’s pretty," Peter noted, and Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Yours or mine?" 

Peter’s smile grew. “Oh, both, certainly. I think mine better suited for a young girl, but perhaps he hasn’t the verve for Ophelia’s madness.” The whole troupe had been thrown out of sorts when Isaac had shot up in a matter of weeks, gone from svelte youth to towering adult, and the breadth of his shoulders impossible to disguise. The new boy  _was_ tall, Derek noted, but a little slimmer.

And his mouth — his eyes, wide, and staring at Derek from across the Tiring House, where Erica was fussing with her measuring tape.

"We’ll see," Derek said, brusque.

| |

[yes its Hamlet of course its Hamlet]


	11. Cora/Stiles, Space Pirate AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cora/Stiles, (space) pirate au - wasagirl

(oh man. so my brain went immediately to Firefly. I’m actually not huge on the space / pirate / space pirate genre, so I’m going slightly sideways to space western. and I know people have their own headcanons for people but I am WAY INTO River!Stiles and Simon!Scott and Mal!Derek and Zoe!Boyd and Inara!Lydia and Kaylee!Erica and Wash!Allison and Jayne!Cora and Isaac just kind of helps run the ship too sorry bud and there’s no Book. or Deaton can be Book because Cryptic Black Guy With a Mysterious Past is a thing, apparently. and I can think of about a dozen ways I would shake this up and remix it but FOR NOW):

| |

"Why is he here again?"

"Because," Derek said, shortly, and Cora made a face at him. "Because he  _knows things_ ,” Derek added, and Cora’s face morphed into something slightly less grumpy. She was also doing something with her favorite gun that was almost disturbingly threatening, and what Lydia would probably have called ‘overtly phallic’, and all-in-all it was too early in the morning to deal with this sort of thing. “He’s good to have around in a pinch.”

"Still here," Stiles said, waving one hand. "While you’re talking about me, and everything."

Derek shrugged. A more lucid day then. Sometimes Stiles wouldn’t notice if the whole universe tried to swallow them up.

"Does he  _have_  to go?” Scott yelled from the upper deck, and Derek turned to squint at him.

"Is he good for anything else around here?" Stiles was clumsy, frail, overly sarcastic, and basically bonkers. Prescience was the only thing he had going for him.

Now Scott was making  _that face_  at Derek again. Why did no one on his own goddamn ship even like him? Or pretend to? He was the  _captain_.

"Aw, don’t worry, Doc. I’ll protect him." Cora threw her arm around Stiles’s shoulders and grinned. A toothy grin. Stiles looked caught between terror and interest, which - Derek didn’t need this. Derek need precisely  _none_  of this.

Scott narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I should come too.”

"Carrier only holds four," Boyd said, and clapped Scott on the shoulder. "I’ll keep it from getting too weird."


	12. Derek/Stiles, 13 Going on 30 AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sterek. "He loves you but, he loves your butt." 13 Going on 30 AU maybe??? heheheeheh - thelatinquarter

ohhhhhh my god, this would be great. like, Derek is the slightly older kid next door who is always such a jerk to Stiles, because Derek’s young and emotionally stupid and pulling pigtails like PAY ATTENTION TO ME, NOT SCOTT,  I LIKE SCOTT BUT WHAT ABOUT MEEEEEEE with a little bit of GOD STILES SO ANNOYING STOP BREATHING ON ME WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE YOSHI which Laura and Cora find amusing and definitely exacerbate in the way only sisters can, so Stiles hates him, at least 73%  _hates_  him, that weird kind of relationship where they’re best buddies the other 27% of the time. and Derek definitely does something stupid on Stiles’s birthday that is SO INFURIATING or accidentally awful, like bringing up Stiles’s mom and then realizing two second too late what a misstep that was. Because its not like Derek ever means to be an asshole, he didn’t ever  _mean_  it like that, he just lacks even basic emotional intelligence, but Stiles’s face stiffens in the way where it means he’s trying to stop it from crumpling up entirely, and he runs up to his room and tucks himself in his closet - or maybe the spare room, where some of his mom’s stuff is still squirreled away in boxes. "Go away!" Stiles yells when Derek pounds on the door and tries to apologize. “Go away, Derek! We aren’t friends! I wish I was grown up and I wouldn’t have to see you ever  _again_!” 

of course it happens. Stiles wakes up in the dorm room he shares with a much buffer, less shaggy-haired Scott. He has college classes and college friends and an ex-girlfriend who calls him Batman and a job at the comic book store and a phone that looks like it came out of science fiction. and Stiles is pretty oddball clever so he realizes that his wish came  _true_ , holy shit. how did that even happen? how did he so thoroughly  _waste his wish_? damn it. and it doesn’t take long to put together the rest of the wish either.

"So, uhm," he asks one night, when Scott is watching something called  _Ridiculousness_ , which frankly looks a lot like what they spent their childhood doing. “Do you remember Derek Hale?”

 

"Derek?" Scott asks. "Sure. What about him?"

"Just thinking about… stuff," Stiles hedges. "The past. You know. Haven’t seen him in a while."

Scott snorts. “Well, yeah. He lives in New York, dude.”

Stiles does some Facebook stalking. He finds out Derek went to NYU, on the other side of the _country_. Then Stiles gradually re-befriends Cora - who probably calls him a fucking asshole the first time she sees him again, if she doesn’t actually try to throw a punch, because Derek and Stiles obviously weren’t ever friends again after Stiles’s 13th birthday party, tragic, tragic - and the whole sad awful tale of the rest of Derek’s life gradually comes out, semi-popular loner in high school, going to college and Kate and how she might have tried to murder him, a little.

"How do you murder someone  _a little_?” Stiles asks, incredulous. “Is that like being a little bit pregnant?”

"Shut up," Cora says, and punches him in the shoulder. "She didn’t succeed, obviously, so he was only a  _little_ murdered.”

And that might be it, you know - two paths diverged in a wood, whatever, this is Stiles Stilinski, twenty, English major - but Stiles, Stiles who is really-thirteen-year-old-Stiles keeps expecting Derek to be there, even at college. He learns about faoladh in his Celtic folklore class and wants to tell Derek about it, ‘cause Scott doesn’t do the horror movie stuff. He wants someone to eat the pizza crusts off his plate. Someone to play lacrosse with without it ending in a asthma attack, because Scott didn’t grow out of those anymore than Stiles grew out of his ADHD, as it turns out. He misses Derek’s stupid fuzzy eyebrows and his stupid rabbit teeth and his tendency to elbow his way to first place when losing at Mario Kart. It’s  _everything._

And then due to handwavey story perfection it turns out Spring Break is coming up. Stiles goes home to Beacon Hills and a little birdie tells him that Derek is back in town for their parents thirtieth anniversary.  _don’t make me murder you a little,_  Cora texts him, and Stiles stares at it for a really long time because he doesn’t know what to say.  _no one is getting murdered,_ he sends back, finally, and Cora sends a complicated emoticon that… might be a thumbs up? or a reference to garroting. hard to tell.

Stiles then stalks Derek to the Beacon Hills Coffeeshop, naturally, because even as a sixteen year old he was a caffeine addict. And he looks - well, physically, he looks like a fucking Greek God, but that was something Stiles had already figured out from Facebook. He can tell its a different Derek from the one he knew. He’s sadder, wow,  _so much_  sadder, and how depressing is it that Stiles can see that across a room?

"Hey?" Stiles says. "Derek. Hey," as Derek’s head snaps up, as his eyes zero in on Stiles’s face and just. freeze. 

And then its stilted conversation, Stiles trying to hold out the hand of old friendship and Derek smacking it down, ignoring it entirely.  

"You haven’t talked to me in - in seven years," Derek says, finally, after one too many ‘remember whens?’ and squares his shoulders. "So don’t start now."

Cora probably comes by later to murder Stiles a little, but he looks so miserable she ends up punching him awkwardly on the shoulder, because  _feelings_. 

"They’re terrible," Stiles says gloomily. "We should ban them."

then - ugh, I don’t know, crisis! The Sheriff has a heart attack, or gets in a car wreck, and when Derek hears he comes to the hospital to see if everything’s okay because he can’t  _not_ , despite it all, and Stiles is struck with how much he loves Derek’s stupid stubbly grumpy face, and probably he kisses him right there in the stupid, foul smelling waiting room, while Melissa McCall watches from the nurses’s station with a raised eyebrow and texts absolutely  _everyone_  she knows.

and we magically flashback to Stiles in that little spare room, huddled up but suddenly not so miserable. he unlocks the door to find Derek practically still on the other side, sitting at the top of the steps, all stony faced and miserable. 

"I didn’t mean to," Derek says, which isn’t exactly a  _sorry_ , but.

"I know, dude," Stiles says, because even though he kind of sees the writing on the wall here, he’s also thirteen and just spent the past half an hour in this timeline snotting his face off. Not the time to suck face. "I’ll forgive you if you let me be Yoshi."

[He kisses Derek for the first time two weeks later, ignores the way Derek goes pale and then pink, and tells Cora if she says anything to his dad he’s going to tell Boyd she’s got a crush on him. She punches him so hard he gets dead arm

it’s great.]


	13. Raleigh/Mako, road trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg road trip mako/raleigh for the tropes thing you reblogged BECAUSE JUST- MAKO AND RALEIGH ON A ROAD TRIP - queenmeee

oh good goddamn I WOULD READ THAT FIC SO HARD

I can mostly see them trying to figure out who gets control of the radio, and when. the usual rules are ‘driver gets to choose’, which always served Raleigh and Yancy well whenever they decided to go anywhere, but I bet Raleigh ends up doing a lot more driving than Mako - its strange, how difficult and  _tiring_  driving a car is when you’re not used to it; then again, maybe it’s not, because using your Jaeger feels like an extension of yourself, and Mako doesn’t feel _anything_  for the rust-bucket they’ve picked up for this weird little trip - at first they start off with vetos, but it becomes a chorus of no, no, no, so it becomes much more complex: first something agreed upon, then something Raleigh likes, then something Mako likes, then something the other had never heard of, sometimes a wildcard of something Raleigh finds on his player than he doesn’t remember downloading. Mako likes instrumental things in the mornings, because I have a secret headcanon she is very much not a morning person, and Raleigh likes rock (“real road trip music”) whenever they’re someplace they can really speed, but Mako also like pop and some startlingly hardcore bands Newt introduced her to, and Raleigh likes a lot of music that’s fifty or sixty or seventy years old, really dorky stuff, stuff most people would call soft and romantic. He doesn’t even play it for her until a few days in. They’ve shared the Drift, but they haven’t shared everything. Not yet.


	14. Scott/Stiles, Stiles brings his kitten to the hot new vet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott/Stiles, (they don't know each other prior) stiles takes his kitten into the vet, the cat doesn't really like it. - luvrly

[oh my GOD adorable]  
[also keeping the name Ladybug for Stiles’s kitten. because its  _also_ adorable]  
[also I know cats who open doors. cats. not to be trusted]

| |

When the new veterinarian comes into the room, Ladybug  _freaks out._

"Uhm," Stiles says, as Ladybug tries to claw her way up his sweatshirt and into his hood, "I can honestly say she’s never done that before." Ladybug seemed pretty convinced Stiles was her pet, not the other way around. And that affection was for peasants.

The vet laughs. “I’m kind of a dog person, so… well. This happens sometimes!” He steps forward to the table while Stiles tries (and fails) to pry Bug from his shoulder. “Looks like Ladybug’s a super smart cat, anyway.”

"She figured out how to open doors," Stiles admits. And  _wow_ , but the Doc’s got a killer grin set in that crooked jaw. Scratch the ‘killer’ part, even - its more like a blast of sunshine. Set phasers to stun. Are people allowed to project that much cheer? People not on drugs?

"So I’m Scott McCall," the vet says. "Mister… uhm. Uh. Wow."

"Just go with Stiles, dude."

Again with the grin.

Wow.


	15. Colin/Mary/Dickon, Drift Compatible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary/Colin/Dickon, Pacific Rim - owlphallacies

[SCREAMS INTO THE VOID]

[ I have already made my feelings on this known ](http://the1001cranes.tumblr.com/post/57736689514/screaming-forever-about-the-yorkshire-angel-jaeger-oh)

 

Mary pesters Colin every day for a month before he even gets out of bed.

"I’m not going to stop, you know," she says, even as she tries to box his ears after he makes another sneering comment about Dickon and how much sex they’ve been having without their crippled boyfriend. "The only reason you can’t walk is because you’re sitting here feeling sorry for yourself."

"It’s not about the walking," Colin says, sullen as a sickly child. It’s about piloting, and they both know it. "And you’ve got Dickon anyway. What do you need my useless legs for?"

Mary rolls her eyes and doesn’t bother to hide it. “There’s no Yorkshire Angel without you, you know,” she says, matter-of-fact. Mary’s compliments always come at you that way, as universal truths, blunt as a fist. “There never will be. Dickon’s an engineer for a reason.” Colin knows as well as Mary that Dickon’s terrified of the cockpit, of being locked up in the suit. If power tools occurred in the wild, Dickon’d never come inside. Mary’s never Drifted with anyone but Colin, and Colin with Mary. That will always be true. Dickon is only ever in the Drift as a ghost, a shared memory, the bridge between them.

Mary manages to yank the covers back and looks at Colin’s knobby knees, his skinny, pointed ribs. “You’re a sorry sight, for sure.”

“ _Thanks_.”

"But I’ve always stood on the right, anyway," she continues, dismissively, "Get up already."


	16. Derek/Cora, the westermark effect ain’t got none on them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for idyllspace

He keeps waiting for her to feel like old Cora, but she never does. He doesn’t look at her and see the little snot who used to eat all the strawberry Pop-Tarts and get her dirty fingers all over his comic books. When he closes his eyes he can’t picture her in messy braids or dirty overalls or the bright pink high tops Cora used to wear. She’s Cora but she isn’t, not his sister at all, just some girl with the same name.

Even her touch doesn’t seem familial - it doesn’t make him think of their mother, not even when the dark hair sweeps into her eyes as she leans forward. Not even when she looks so much like her, like the great Alpha Talia Hale, so much like the woman ten year old Cora had the promise to be. He recognized her after all those years, he  _knew_ her. He doesn’t doubt she’s his sister, and yet —

"How do you feel?" she asks. She runs one hand up and down his neck, and cups the back of his head. She’s smiling at him, maybe the first time she’s  _ever_  smiled at him, and he lets his eyes slide shut because it’s too much. It’s too much to even contemplate.

"Fine," he says, and leans back, infinitesimally, for the extra pinprick of pressure. "I’ll be fine."


	17. Peter/Stiles, arranged marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for xeno, mild not!fic.

All of the unattached people from the village/kingdom/whatever who are of noble enough birth are made available to the Hales - rounded up, even, I’m totally making Gerard the fucknut King here. Stiles is only the son of a Baron, barely anything. Lydia is an actual Princess, Danny is going to be a Duke one day - no one would  _ever_  pick Stiles. Forgetting, of course, that human titles mean little to werewolves. Gerard might be the Alpha, of sorts, but all the rest of these little pups are more or less equal.

The werewolves come into town as wolves, except Talia, who has the power to shift whenever she damn well pleases. All of the available humans are lined up, and Talia and Gerard exchange barbed pleasantries. All the wolves’ noses in the air, scenting. It only has to be one of the Hales - Peter or Derek or Laura. Even Cora, though as barely of age it’s only if she’s the one to step forward. But someone must make a choice.

Laura probably goes first, with Derek behind her. Laura noses at a few hands - fear, mostly everyone smells like fear. Or dread, which isn’t far off. Lydia is more stalwart then most, clear-eyed and stiff spined. Maybe.

Derek, of course, is less even. His hackles up from even being here. He growls at a few people and watches them flinch with cold blue eyes. Jackson smells acceptable, he thinks, grudging. He’s not any less fearful, but it smells… intoxicating, for reasons Derek can’t explain.

Peter walks down the line almost as quickly as Derek. Not particularly concerned, now that he sees either Derek or Laura have found someone they wouldn’t mind attaching themselves to (even not-so-evil Peter is still not the self sacrificing kind). Stiles is three-fourths of the way through the line, past where Jackson is practically leaking fear through every pore in his body, past Danny’s veneer of ease, past Lydia’s almost immeasurable calm (Peter can’t help the extra sniff there, even as Laura’s hackles start to rise). But Stiles - oh, Peter catches the scent of him a few bodies before. Unconsciously picks up his pace to find the origin point, the person it belongs to.  _This one_.

Well fuck, Stiles thinks, because there’s a giant ginger-brown wolf standing in front of him, blue eyes gleaming. Not going anywhere.

"The Honorable Genim Stilinski," Gerard’s voice booms out. Amused. Of course he would be, Stiles thinks bitterly. He’s never  _liked_  me. Me getting eaten by wolves is probably on his Christmas list. “An excellent choice, Alpha Hale.”

"By my brother, Peter Hale," is her cool response. She knows her brother, knows he wouldn’t make the sacrifice play. Which means he  _wants_  this one. Interesting. “I trust a week will be sufficient preparation?”

"Of course."

And then the wolves run the fuck out of town. PEACE.

There are a crowd of people at Stiles’s back. He can feel his father’s sorrowful gaze from the galley above him. Scott’s more horrified one at Allison’s side.

"They’ll be back in a week," Lydia says to him. Voice brisk but not unkind. "For the new moon."

When they’re human, Stiles thinks numbly. When his husband is human.

Suffice to say Stiles spends a week freaking out before settling into a kind of doomed acceptance. Yeah, he’s being married off to a scary werewolf, but he’s saving the village/kingdom/whatever. He’s saving his Dad and Scott and Allison and Danny and Lydia and even Gerard the fucknut. He can live with that. He has to, because he couldn’t live with the consequences if he  _didn’t_. Plus, he’s only got a week to get Scott to stop making ridiculous rescue plans and spend time with his dad before - just, before.

It’s not until the wolves stride back into town on two feet that Stiles realizes he didn’t even think about what his husband would actually  _look_  like. That he’d probably be older, if he was the Alpha’s sister, and the Alpha had full grown children. Fuck, Stiles thinks wildly, he could be married to someone as old as his dad.  _Older._

It’s really not the time for a panic attack, which is precisely why Stiles has one. Ten minutes wheezing in his room while wrinkling the gorgeous new shirt Lydia had given him, then another fifteen psyching himself back up and trying to unwrinkle it. Fuck it, Stiles thinks, and unbuttons the top two buttons. Maybe at least it’ll look a little deliberate.

So Stiles finally gets downstairs to meet his would-be husband about five minutes before they are for-real-married. There’s a whole cluster of people around Talia Hale, some of them too female, some of them too young. Only a couple men there it could possibly be.

The ginger-brown wolf. Not that Stiles even knows if wolf forms are anything like human forms. Most of the Hales’ inner circle seems to have dark hair. So when Stiles sees Peter it’s not exactly love at first sight - the whole situation is way too fucked up for that - but a little lust, maybe. And that little bit of lust carries Stiles all the way to his marriage bed, Peter’s clever hands and wandering mouth and destructive, ravenous nature. Stiles wakes up the next morning sore and bewildered. He sits at the breakfast table next to his husband -  _husband,_ what the fuck - and across from his father, trying to project the perfect mix of ‘properly devirginized but definitely not debauched no sirree’, which is possibly not what actually happens. Fuck. That Peter drags Stiles up to bed again right after probably doesn’t help. Talia, at least, looks amused.

But werewolves are only human for three days a month, which means they leave the next day. Stiles can’t help clinging to Scott a little, to tearing up a bit when he hugs his dad goodbye. He doesn’t know - he doesn’t know when they’ll be coming back. He walks out sniffling despite his best efforts, Peter plastered to his side.

He also goes to sleep that night next to a human Peter, and wakes up next to a wolf one. Stiles makes a sound that might be a scream and falls out of bed. Not his best morning by a long shot. 

It’s weird, living as a human among werewolves. He’s not the only one - not the only human spouse - and there’s the occasional human offspring from a human-werewolf marriage. A handful of people who don’t mind living out in the woods this way, who handle the gathering, building the houses, the human defenses when the werewolves are in their wolf state. Stiles makes a friend, he thinks, with one of the men who work in the smithy. Sometimes he can’t tell if Boyd is being sarcastic or genuinely hates him, but he never tells him to go away.

Stiles often wakes up with morning wood when Peter is lying beside him, which is - weird and embarrassing, but Peter just yawns and jumps out of bed, so. Whatever. Mostly Stiles just ignores it and goes about his day, but he’s still a teenager, okay, so sometimes he has to jerk off. Rolls into the warm spot that Peter’s body and his supercharged fur left on the bed beside him.

Peter doesn’t push his wolf form at first. Human sex is strange enough for Stiles in the beginning, uncertain and intoxicating in its newness. When the new moon comes around again they spend the there days together, rolling around in bed and emerging only for food. Stiles flushes at the teasing but it’s mostly good-natured when they’re still really newlyweds. Stiles catches Boyd rolling his eyes, but he looks pretty well snuggled up to the blonde she-wolf, so Stiles isn’t sure he’s got much room to talk. When Peter shifts back into his wolf form its mostly just… comfortable. Peter flops on top of Stiles when they go to bed, sometimes, snuffles at him to see where he’s been and who he’s with, and Stiles narrates the whole day as best as he can.

BUT THEN at some point Stiles is totally going to be jerking off in their tent and look up to find Peter in his wolf form watching him.

"Jesus," Stiles says, breath stuttering in his throat. More startled than anything, and then sort of embarrassed. It’s not really the kind of thing you want anyone catching you doing, much less your husband when he’s stuck in his wolf form (or does he think of it as stuck in his human form? questions for later, Stiles, when you don’t literally have your dick in your hand).

Peter growls just once, low, blue eyes lit up, and Stiles lets go of his cock, slowly. “Sorry,” he says, and flushes. Maybe this is one of those werewolf things no one bothered to explain to him - which was pretty much  _everything_ , thanks. Then Peter growls again.

"Uhm," a little stupid, as Peter puts his front paws up on the end of the bed and lays his head on them, watching. "You want me to…?" Another growl, though this one sounds less… growly.

"Okay," Stiles says, shaky, and starts to jerk himself off again. It’s weird at first -  _really_ weird, because its not like they did this when Peter was human; he’s way too hands on for that. The last person Stiles jerked off in front of was Scott, and that was totally not homoerotic, no eye contact stuff. Peter’s eyes feel like they’re trying to bore into Stiles. It’s actually - fuck, Stiles might even  _like_  that he’s watching.

Peter licks the come off of Stiles’s hand when he’s done, his stomach, his chest. It becomes something they do when Peter is a wolf. Sometimes Peter licks Stiles’s palm and fingers before, gets him wet with werewolf spit, tasting the sweat of Stiles’s skin. Licking the bites human!Peter left behind. Moving slowly to licking at Stiles’s cock and balls, mouth not humanoid enough to give him what could be called a blowjob, precisely, but his rough tongue causes enough friction for Stiles to swear. And Stiles starts to realize that it turns wolf!Peter on too, which - duh, Stiles, that kind of only makes sense. But it’s - looking at Peter that way, thinking about him that way, it’s - it’s weird and embarrassing and fucked up, isn’t it? Even if it gets Stiles hot.  Maybe Peter humps the bed a few times, or one of the pillows.Stiles wants to suggest using his leg, heavy weight pinning him down, but - fuck, he can’t get the words out.

Things probably continue along that track for a few months. Then Peter probably brings it up in the middle of sex. Nicely human sex, with Stiles sitting in Peter’s lap, his legs wrapped around Peter’s waist and his arms around Peter’s neck. Not getting as brutally fucked as Peter sometimes likes to do, but jostled nicely up and down, not touching his cock ‘cause he likes to wait as long as he can.

"I want to fuck you," Peter says, and Stiles laughs a little. The sound rippling all through his body.

"Yeah? What do you call this?"

"Fuck you as a  _wolf_.” Peter wanted it face to face like this so he could watch Stiles’s pupils blow open in the moment before he pushed his face into Peter’s neck, coming so hard it made him almost helpless afterwards, as Peter kept fucking into his loose, flush body.

"Do you mean it?" Stiles asks, after. Peter curled up beside him. He can’t quite say what ‘it’ is, he can’t - even after Peter sort of suggested it. 

"Very much," Peter says. "I always want you." Always has. Since that moment in Gerard’s courtyard. The spike of Stiles’s arousal is hard to catch in a room already flooded with it, especially with Peter’s lessened human nose, but its there. 

"Okay," he says, "okay, I - I want that too."

"We’d have to be careful," Peter says. "I’m bigger, as a wolf." Not to mention his knot, but one step at a time. No sense scaring Stiles off now.

In another day Peter is a wolf again, half on top of Stiles when he wakes up in the morning. Watching him with his bright, impossible eyes.

"Morning," Stiles rasps out, and Peter yelps quietly. Pushes his head down against Stiles’s stomach, tongue flicking out over the top of Stiles’s cock while Stiles makes a very wolf-like whine.

"Good boy," Stiles says after, a little breathless, and Peter nips at his fingers. Growls. Stiles lets his legs fall open a little and goes for the ruff of fur around Peter’s neck, pulling him up until his body is flush against Stiles’s.

"Well," he says, blushing, what Peter can only call  _delightful_. It feels like Stiles’s heartbeat is pounding all the way through his body. Thump thump thump. “You said you wanted - ” and Peter yips, his erection dragging against Stiles’s leg. Unbelievably hot, Stiles thinks, both meanings of the word, as Peter wraps his paws around Stiles’s chest and ruts against him, Stiles’s hands full of thick warm fur as the pool of come on his stomach, his leg, the inside of his thigh grows and grows.

AND LATER. Peter licking Stiles places, tasting him, delicately biting others; until Stiles cries out in shock when Peter begins to rim him, loosening him up with his tongue. Not to fuck - Peter doesn’t want to hurt Stiles, doesn’t want to think about what he’d do if he smelled Stiles’s blood - but just to hear Stiles cry, to listen to the words that tumble out of his mouth without forethought. Stiles is so very good at misdirection, when Peter prefers to be straightforward in this regard.

AND Stiles waking up to Peter on top of him, rutting up against him, thick erection running over Stiles’s hole while Stiles drools into the pillow, sweaty and sleepy from Peter’s bulk on top of him, the heat of his fur.

AND THEN KNOTTING god I was going to do something besides werewolf porn today sigh ANYWAY. Knotting after Stiles gets used to wolf!Peter, his weight and his heat and the careful cut of his teeth across Stiles’s skin - after Stiles loosens himself up with oil, Peter watching oh so carefully, growling, deep and satisfied as Stiles gets on all fours.

"Come on," Stiles says, and then "oh!" when Peter leaps on the bed and slides inside. " _Definitely_  bigger,” while Peter nips at Stiles’s ear, the line of his jaw. Bigger and hotter too, Peter’s fur rubbing all over Stiles’s body, getting tacky with sweat and oil and still incredibly lush, luxurious feeling, terrible and wrong and so good because of it.

Stiles can feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Not because it hurts, exactly. More overwhelmed, like his body doesn’t know what to do with everything that’s happening, doesn’t know how to take a backseat and just enjoy it all - the prick of Peter’s teeth, the scratch of his claws, the short hard thrusts rocketing through his body. The way Peter is swelling inside him, grinding his hips against Stiles like there was any more of Stiles to fill. Stiles pressing his face into the mattress, desperately trying to cool himself off, to stop rubbing his hard cock against the smooth pillows, stop the way his balls are tightening up - until he can’t anymore, can’t help but cry out.

"Peter," coming on half a sob, vision greying, "Peter,  _fuck_ ,” hands clawing against the sheets. Peter’s hot breath against his cheek.

It’s a few more minutes until Peter’s knot subsides enough for Stiles to move, to shove away the pillows and fall onto the bed, slick between his thighs - more than slick,  _wet_ , and he trails his hand down the inside of his thigh, has two finger delicately exploring between his legs before Peter’s soft bark makes him blush.

"I’m just… seeing," he says. "Jesus," and Peter licks at his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "Very good boy," Stiles murmurs, and laughs a little when Peter falls back against the bed with a petulant whumph.


End file.
